


This Sacred Place

by Dragonwithatale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, I would like to apologize in advance, M/M, i can't believe the first shippy fic i'm writing is wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 15:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonwithatale/pseuds/Dragonwithatale
Summary: The glade is where it all beganBut seasons change





	This Sacred Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnOddSock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOddSock/gifts), [Amberdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/gifts).



> Based on [this set of paintings](https://amberdreams1960.tumblr.com/post/152768728429/art-dumping)

It’s spring when the Winchesters first find the clearing. Or rather, when Dean shows it to Sam. Sam snorts when Dean suggests a picnic, but to his secret delight Dean came prepared. Full picnic in that little green cooler, all of Sam’s favorites.

They sprawl on the blanket under a green canopy, and Sam can’t remember feeling this relaxed and happy. It’s comfortable, being with Dean, being together again, working like they were never apart, never split in two.

Sam is home.

It’s impulse that makes him lean over when Dean smiles at him, soft and sweet, and kiss his brother. It’s hunger that makes him thread his fingers through Dean’s hair as Dean kisses back, pulling Sam onto his lap, panting, pressing, touching.

It’s heaven as they move together, not knowing where one begins and the other ends, tangled up in each other, drowning in sensation.  Sam knows, as he comes undone, as Dean shudders beneath him, that he’s home.

Dean is home.

 

It’s summer and the heat has soaked into the earth. The grass is brittle and dry and Dean hasn’t looked at Sam like that in an eternity. Heaven, hell, life… decisions that had to be made or at least can never be unmade, but God, Sam misses him.

He didn’t recognize where they were when Dean pulled off last night.

He didn’t expect to wake up to his brother crying silently, sitting on the hood of the Impala and staring at the sky.

“Dean?”

Dean wipes his eyes quickly and looks over as Sam climbs out, a fake smile plastered over the cracks. “Morning sunshine. Ready to hit the road?”

“I’m sorry.” It’s not what he meant to say, he knows Dean doesn’t want to hear it, but it slips out. Dean’s face crumples for an instant as he looks away and Sam would rather be stabbed than have caused it. “I know I can never make it right, and I know you don’t want me to say it but Dean I’m so sorry.”

“Sammy…” Dean’s voice trails off. “I’m not talking about this. I can’t.”

Sam nods and swallows, and he means to say “Okay,” he wants to say “I understand” because he’s trying to, he should have said “I’m sorry” because he would give anything to have that be enough, but what slips out is the faintest “I miss you.” And he can’t look at Dean’s reaction, he can’t stomach the thought of Dean being angry at him, not here.

He turns away, no idea what to do or where to go, just needing to not be here, not be cutting his brother to pieces just by existing. Dean catches him by the wrist.

“Sam.”

He holds still, praying that the tears won’t fall down his face, that he won’t break. He can take this, he owes Dean that much. “I’m sorry.” It’s not enough.

“I know.” Sam crumples in on himself, shoulders shaking. Dean wraps around him, cradling him, pressing soft lips to the back of his neck. “Shh, I know Sammy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I know it’s not, I know I hurt you and—“

Dean turns Sam around and pulls him down, resting his head against his brother’s, cradling the back of his neck gently. “Sammy, shh, it’s okay. Christ, I didn’t mean to torture you like this.”

Sam can’t stop the tears from falling. He nods jerkily. “It’s okay—“

“No it’s not.” Dean kisses Sam, chaste and gentle, and Sam clutches desperately at his brother’s shirt because God it’s been so long but he doesn’t have the right to beg for more. Dean breaks away and gently wipes the tears from Sam’s face. “I will always love you, Sam. I can’t not.”

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Dean kisses him again, deep and slow, and Sam pulls them closer. He loses track, begging for forgiveness, for Dean to touch him, for Dean. Each touch burns.

Each kiss heals.

 

It’s autumn.

The air is chill.

Sam wraps his fingers gently around the back of Dean’s head.

He’s so still.

It’s obscene.

Sam takes another shallow breath, feeling his life seeping into the ground.

The hunters should never have known about this place. Should never have been able to find them here.

They did.

His hands curl. He wants to reach over and trace Dean’s face. But he feels so heavy.

Sunlight falls through the leaves, dapples Dean’s face. He’s so pale.

Things blur. Dean’s the only thing left. Whole world.

“Dean…"

 

Gold and copper fall, covering two still bodies. Winter is almost here.

Time for things to rest.


End file.
